It's all about the meat.

Chillin' in the islands. Sounds good.
Sailing in the San Juans. Sounds great.
Prime Rib. Tipping point.

Josh and Shelly invited Spanky and me up to Josh's Mom's place this past weekend.
I was wary (new places, new people) but it sounded nice.

Reality:

1- Cool house. Hot tub (unused sadly). Sweeping views. Large TV.

2-World's worst tap water- worse than Florida.

3-World's slowest sailboat race. (Offsetted by most genius solution to missing mainsail pin.)

Interlude: "Why, why, why would the fucking Raiders take McFadden? They didn't exactly have a problem running the ball last year." I mused, while stuffing peanut butter bread down my maw.



4-Unbelievable Prime Rib. Homemade coffee cake. And Ice Cream at every meal.

Island life is nice. Don't know if I could take it, but theoretically, it's nice.
You seem to know everyone and vice versa. I think this would make me more prone to violent outbursts. At least, it would be much easier to find hiding places for bodies.
"I don't know where s/he is. Maybe they fell in the water?"